Neighbors saw 2 sides to mom of boy who died

Mar. 27, 2014
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Photo of Lacey Spears and son Garnett Spears. The 5-year-old Chestnut Ridge, N.Y., boy's death is being investigated by police. Doctors found extreme levels of sodium in the boy's system. / Facebook photo provided courtesy of his family

by Shawn Cohen and Peter D. Kramer, The (Westchester County, N.Y.) Journal News

by Shawn Cohen and Peter D. Kramer, The (Westchester County, N.Y.) Journal News

WHITE PLAINS, N.Y. -- By the time she reached the Fellowship Community in Chestnut Ridge in 2012, Lacey Spears was fully indulging in her tragic tale about Blake, the man she called her soul mate and her son's father who died in a car crash.

The story of Blake and Lacey took on new details and was shared almost daily and with anyone who would listen: that she and her purported high-school sweetheart had tried four times to have a child and suffered two miscarriages and a stillbirth before Garnett was born. They were engaged when Blake, a police officer, died, said Lacey, who wore a diamond engagement ring she claimed he gave to her.

And she added a postmortem twist: Blake, she said, was reincarnated.

"She said he came back as an owl," recalled a Fellowship resident and co-worker who was close with Lacey. "The poor boy was under the impression that his father had indeed become an owl."

That might explain why Lacey filled their one-bedroom apartment â?? on the ground floor of a split-level house in the woods â?? with a wide array of decorative owls: owl figurines, owl postcards, owl towels.

In truth, a host of Lacey's longtime friends had never seen Blake but several knew Garnett's real father, a garage-door installer alive and well and living in Alabama, Lacey's home state, with his girlfriend.

The Journal News spoke with Fellowship workers who shared their perspectives on Lacey on the condition they not be named; Fellowship has asked them not to speak with the media.

Lacey Spears, 26, is the focus of a police investigation into the Jan. 23 death of her 5-year-old son, Garnett, who had a feeding tube. Police are investigating whether she fed potentially life-threatening amounts of salt to her son in a case of Munchausen by proxy, a psychiatric disorder that leads a parent to harm a child to seek sympathy or attention.

As he lay dying, sources said, Lacey called a Fellowship neighbor and asked her to get rid of one of the boy's feeding bags from her home. The neighbor removed the pouch and called police, who searched the Fellowship and recovered the bag, which contained an extreme concentration of sodium, sources said. Police also took food from Lacey's apartment, along with her computer and cellphone.

Lacey has denied doing anything to harm her son, and her lawyer, David Sachs, has declined to comment.

Though the probe has shaken faith in Lacey, those interviewed said they, like most people at the Fellowship, believed her stories at first and felt terrible for her, offering sympathy. And they wouldn't pry too much for fear of upsetting the single mother whose bubbly child won the hearts of many in the community.

That restraint was tested twice, when she accused two men at the Fellowship of making unwanted sexual advances. In April 2013, Lacey claimed a man twice exposed himself to her. Ramapo police were called. The accused denied Lacey's account, and another Fellowship resident said she did not witness anything. Lacey did not want to file a formal complaint, and police advised the man to avoid future contact with her.

The second alleged incident, in October, ended with the accused man and his wife leaving the Fellowship.

"She accused me in the executive circle at the Fellowship of sexual harassment," said Ricardo Alv, who now lives in Brazil. "It's not true. But the executive circle said it's better for you to leave before this becomes serious. Me and my wife left without having a chance to defend myself."

Fellowship administrator Matt Uppenbrink declined to comment on either accusation.

Lacey also would speak of Garnett's sickly past, his history of hospitalizations. She'd say he'd go days without eating and needed to be fed through a tube in his abdomen because he was considered a "failure to thrive" case, a diagnosis for children defined by inadequate weight gain.

"She said she had to wake up a couple times during the night and feed him through the tube," said a female friend who lives off-site but works at the Fellowship. "She basically said he doesn't obtain the same nutrients as we get, and that's why she said she had to feed him at night.

"She was very careful about what he ate," she added. "Everything was organic. She said he didn't eat anything out of a can or a box."

Fellowship residents said they were perplexed by the feeding tube because they saw him eat solid food through his mouth. He seemed to have a good appetite when eating in the community dining hall, they said.

On the surface, Garnett came off as lively and energetic, so much so that people at the Fellowship would think he was a perfectly healthy child had Lacey not told them otherwise.

"He'd had runny noses, a fever, every once in a while, but nothing unusual," Uppenbrink said. "Most of the time he'd be bouncing around the house and happy."

The only time Uppenbrink could recall Garnett going to the hospital was when he experienced problems with his feeding tube.

"It came out once and was pretty loose," he said. "He was taken to Good Samaritan, but they (couldn't) fix it, so he went to the Westchester Medical Center."

That was months before Garnett would be flown back to the medical center, for a visit that would be his last.

Folks around the campus recalled a playful child who'd always ask, "What's your name?" when he met someone new and remember that name when he saw them again. His gap-toothed grin was infectious.

Lacey and her son lived in Tulip House, sharing a home with several other residents who lived and worked in the alternative-lifestyle community, an 80-acre property on a hilltop on Hungry Hollow Road. Some 60 "co-workers" support about 70 elderly residents who are referred to as "members."

"Each day is a little different," Uppenbrink said. "In the morning, Lacey could be working cleaning rooms, giving members a bath. In afternoons, she could be working in the greenhouse or candle shop."

Lacey looked at the Fellowship as a back-to-the-earth restart, a place she could raise Garnett the way she wanted. In Facebook posts, she decried Western medicine and blasted those who questioned her parenting philosophy.

What she found in the Fellowship was a place where no one questioned the stories she told, where she was accepted and supported.

And no matter what Lacey was doing, Uppenbrink said, "Garnett was always with her."

That held true until October when Garnett started nursery school at nearby Green Meadow Waldorf School.

"It broke Lacey and Garnett's heart for him to go to school every day," said longtime friend Kathy Hammack, who worked in day care with Lacey in Alabama. "I remember being on the phone with her when Garnett was heading to school, and heard Garnett say, 'No, momma.' He suffered separation anxiety. He didn't like being away from her any more than she liked being away from him."

Still, Lacey posted a photo of Garnett, with a beaming, open-mouthed grin on the first day of school.

Facebook friends - a frequent source of support and affirmation for Lacey as she shared her struggles - saw the happiest of families during this period: Garnett pulling trucks on a sled through the snow, standing in the woods.

But some people at the Fellowship saw someone whose moods were uneven. An elderly resident said she saw Garnett and his mother around campus and that Lacey was "rough with the boy" in people's presence.

"One moment she would be your best friend, almost overly ingratiating," said another woman, a resident and co-worker who knew Lacey well. "The next second, she could be argumentative and spreading rumors."

Her co-workers said Lacey could be petty and childish.

"She seemed to want to turn people against each other, to foment controversy and create conflict and drama in order to get her way," a close male resident said. "She would tell people we said things about somebody else and create a vicious cycle. There would also be times when she'd completely tune out and ignore people."

Those darker days, she chalked up to missing her soul mate.

"She had her good days and her bad days," said the Fellowship co-worker who lives off-site. "Some days she would really miss Blake and she'd be really, really quiet and down about it."

A male resident added: "She felt the anniversary of his supposed death was a big event and had to be commemorated by her. She identified it as a depressing day."

A different co-worker described Lacey as "kind of weird," saying: "She was like a little girl from the South, real 'Yes ma'am, no ma'am' kind of stuff. But the kid was so cute that people overlooked things about her."

Still, it was hard to ignore her behavior when she would volunteer her story to just about anyone, including visitors to the Fellowship within a few minutes of meeting them.

"When visitors came to the Fellowship, she would gravitate toward many of them and want to tell her, quote unquote, story of hardship," the man said.

Some neighbors found it odd that she never displayed pictures of Blake.

"If Garnett's dad had passed away when he was 2, one would expect to see photos of the father, but there were none whatsoever," the male co-worker said. "What there were were owls, everywhere."

As the new year began, on social media at least, Garnett appeared as happy and healthy as ever. Gone was the barrage of images of Garnett's hospital visits that seemed to consume his earlier years. On Jan. 11, Lacey posted a photo titled "Breakfast by Candlelight." Garnett sits at a candle-lit table set for breakfast, his trusty owl cup next to his plate.

The next day began a downward spiral that would end his life, duly recorded on Facebook, in 28 posts over the next 11 days. In them, Garnett goes from being sick with the flu, to having seizures to being on - and off - a breathing tube.

Over the next several days, she reports on Garnett's sodium level and that he's in screaming pain. On Jan. 22, she shares that she plans to remove life support the next day. Garnett declared brain dead, she says, "his soul is already with the angels" and "I'm not ready to let him go."

Then, one last post, on Jan. 23: "Garnett the great journeyed onward today at 10:20 a.m."

After Garnett's death, Lacey moved in with her parents in Kentucky, where she held a small memorial for him.

Lacey's friends, who responded with prayer to her posts about Garnett, were confused when news reached them of a police investigation..

Some friends had begun an online fundraiser, and raised $800 to help Lacey cover medical bills, but suspended the drive and refunded the money when they learned of the probe. But many continue to offer their compassion, as she reaches out for support.

"She's hurting, she's mad G's not here, just upset because her baby's gone," said Shawna Lynch, 30, of Decatur, Ala., describing a phone conversation with a tearful Lacey. "That little boy was her life."

Kathy Hammack also spoke with Lacey recently.

"She was finding a way to move forward without her reason to live," she said. "That's all she ever wanted was to be a mother."

On Facebook, she still is.

Last week, Lacey posted a 545-word status update in which she declared: "I will always be Garnett's momma. I will always be a mother. Nothing will ever change that. But who am I today? That I don't know."

Live chat

Join The (Westchester County, N.Y.) Journal News reporters Shawn Cohen and Peter D. Kramer for a behind-the-scenes look at "Losing Garnett the Great." In a live chat Thursday, March 27, at 7 p.m., they will answer reader questions and share insights into their reporting process. Ask your questions in advance by tweeting: @lohud.